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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109353">Sometimes, a little Carnage is what the System needs.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Yog_Sothoth/pseuds/That_One_Yog_Sothoth'>That_One_Yog_Sothoth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Venom (Movie 2018), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A few years into the future, A lot of bad stuff happened, Amajiki Equals Venom, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Dead Sensei | All For One, Dead Yagi Toshinori | All Might, F/M, He became instead an EMT, Iida's encounter with Stain did not end well, In a timeline where Izu never became a hero, Izuku is quietly bitter and deeply furious, Izuku's got some serious issues, Kirishima got OfA, M/M, Mirio Lost his quirk, Mirio is openly bitter and deeply sad, Other, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Shouto's still not using his fire, Somebody needs to stop The Author so he can focus on one freaking story already, Tamaki's a coward, The Author has little to no understanding of The Symbiotes' powers or backgrounds, The Author has no chill, The Author has no plan, Toga Equals Carnage, Toga's a xenophile, it didn't go well for him, none of the other symbiotes like her, none of the other symbiotes like him, total ass-pull</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:33:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Yog_Sothoth/pseuds/That_One_Yog_Sothoth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are more vigilantes than ever, because fuck, half the heros might as well be villains, and there are more villains out in the open than there have been sincebefore All Might's debut, and now there are honest to god Slime monsters roaming the streets at night, one killing wicked heroes as often as villains, and the other seems to be a vigilante at least</p><p>The police assume they are related because quirks, which helps a bit</p><p>except, psyche it's actually aliens</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amajiki Tamaki/Toogata Mirio, Midoriya Izuku &amp; Toogata Mirio, Midoriya Izuku/Toga Himiko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Another Night, Another NDA, A New Nightmare[?]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Edit - 07/12/20:  Formatting has happened.  I'm a dumb and don't know how to format stuff on this site, but my friend Tyrant helped me figure it out a bit, so now a certain character is in neat Italics.  At least when she's speaking into our fluffy green boy's head.  </p><p>So yeah, Italics - Symbiote to host <br/>Normal font - out loud<br/>Bold - Synched Speech [Host and Symbiote both]</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Most people think of the night and they think of quiet stillness.  The buzz of mosquitoes and flies notwithstanding,  moths fluttering around street lamps, and the quiet ‘thump thump thump’ of people walking home after a long day at work.  Izuku doesn’t quite think of those sorts of things anymore.  He tends to think of the steady [or more often recently not-so-steady] ‘Beep Beep’ of a heart rate monitor, or the labored breaths of someone with a punctured lung only just dug out of the rubble from a villain fight.  It’s… hard, to be as used to it all as he is, but it’s how he can best help others, so it’s what he lives with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight had been blessedly quiet for the most part, however.  He’d treated a shallow slash wound - the result of a desperate conbini robbery gone awry, and a case of dehydration from a health nut going a bit too hard, but otherwise it had been the most relaxed night of the past year.  That peace was shattered when from the sky something hurtled down and crashed into a building just on the edge of his team’s patrol route.  The radio call came in, and the lads and ladies were off.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The van is crammed full of first responders, some quiet and with eyes shut - trying to focus so they don’t mishandle the lives that may soon be in their hands, while others chat amicably with whoever will reply - distracting themselves from their nerves.  Izuku is one of the former and has been for the past few years.  He’s yet to be the only or main reason why someone hasn’t made it to help, but he has seen much more than his fair share of loss.  Their frozen expressions haunt him in his dreams and he awakens more often than not mid-sob nowadays.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They arrive at the location of some private laboratory for some big-name pharmaceutical corporation to a semi-panicked exodus of men, women, and everything between and beyond gathering outside.  The head of Izuku’s team approaches quickly and gets an image of what they’ll be dealing with - potentially biohazardous materials, about a dozen bodies unaccounted for, and NDAs all around for whatever they see inside after everything that can be done has been.  It’s nothing new to any of the more veteran EMTs including Izuku, but he always finds a bit of apprehension inside of himself at the thought of legally binding silence.  A more conspiratorial and subversive part of his mind wonders what it could be that they’re up to in there that don’t want anyone to hear about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shakes off the thoughts as he gears up, gauze, masks, coagulant, anything he might need to get someone out of a potentially life-threatening situation without further exacerbating any problems.  He’s licensed for more than just first aid, but in a situation like this with potentially a timer over their heads it’s best to stabilize and then relocate the patient.  He takes a deep breath as he slips his mask on and steels himself for whatever he might see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group stays together and in constant contact until they reach the sight of the impact, whereupon they split off in pairs and set about doing what they can for whoever they find.  Izuku is paired with an older woman named Michiko, she’s kind, if a bit ignorant about some things, and has been working as an EMT for over a decade.  Her quirk allows her to numb the pain of fractured bones [specifically] so long as she can maintain a form of contact with her target.  They’ve spoken about a couple things before, and she was there when he was first assigned to this team, so he considers her a sort of friend.  One of very few he has.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They work together with a practiced efficiency: Locate, clean, wrap, carry.  Back in, locate, clean, set, wrap, carry.  Back in, respond to a call for help from another group, help pull aside some debris, retrieve a pair - pinned and unconscious, “We’ve got it from here, thanks for the assist”, Thumbs up, smoke is getting thicker, you're running out of time,  Don’t panic, do what you can.  Help how you can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to scout further in, we still haven’t found a few of the missing scientists, I’ll call back if I find anyone.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a bad habit of his, and he’s gotten in trouble for it already, but he breaks off from Michiko’s side and heads deeper in than anyone else is willing to go, through rapidly thickening smoke and past piles of broken machinery worth more money than he’s ever seen in his life.  He keeps in contact with his team, and radios back when he finds one of their missing names.  He makes sure her condition won’t further deteriorate with a few minutes longer exposure.  She’s low to the ground, smoke won’t be a problem, no external injuries - likely a head impact, her eyes dilate properly - not a concussion or brain damage as far as he can tell, breathing steady, no gurgling, and no apparent internal hemorrhaging.  He continues forward [after she's been collected, of course] driven by a need to not be useless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he reaches the end of the path only one name remains unaccounted for, and he’s possibly in what looks to be a containment facility of some kind.  Jars of unknown materials line the walls, some broken open, and some left empty.  A spatter of some unknown dark material slowly bubbles in the corner, as far from any fire as it possibly can be.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku calls out, crouching low to keep his smoke inhalation as low as he can.  He’s already beginning to feel light-headed and he’ll need to get back before he starts getting spots in his vision.  The blob seems to respond to his call, very slowly making its way over toward him and the thought strikes Izuku that this amorphous blob might just be their missing name.  It wouldn’t be the first slime-morph Izuku has ever met, after all,  He just hopes this one doesn’t try to wear his skin like a suit.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you can hear and understand me, please remain where you are, I’m coming over toward you now.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What luck that the person closest to the point of impact was this slime person,  a more solid being would have probably died very quickly from the shock of impact and any further explosions.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku reaches for the slimy substance and as he makes contact he feels a shiver pass over his spine and hears an effeminate chuckle.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you for saving me, my hero!”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The slime sinks into his skin and Izuku panics for a few seconds struggling to shake the mysterious substance off, but before he knows it, it’s all gone under his skin and he’s alone, panting and sweating, wondering if he didn’t just hallucinate it all.  His radio crackles and they get the message to pull back out, all names are accounted for and the building’s going to collapse any minute now.  The thought of being trapped like those he just helped is unappealing, and so Izuku puts his light-headed hallucination out of mind and returns from whence he came.  The team meets back up to report on what they saw, before filling out their paperwork so they can all go home and sleep.  Izuku’s pretty much out of it the whole time, and it’s only thanks to Michiko’s prodding that he signs on the right lines and checks the right boxes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ride back is quieter than the ride over was, and more cramped, as those who needed hospital attention were fit into some of the ambulances they’d brought to start.  Izuku pays it no mind as he nearly falls asleep.  His shift ends and he returns to his civilian guise before making his way to the apartment he calls home now.  When he arrives it’s silent and still, although he pays it no mind.  He doesn’t bother with the lights, dropping his shoes off at the threshold and slipping into his sandals with practiced familiarity even in the dark.  He’s hungry but more exhausted than ravenous, and so he collapses onto the folding couch he received as a gift from his mother a few years ago.  It’s slovenly, but he’s never been one for having company over anyway, one needs friends to invite them over after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he passes from wakefulness and into sleep he hears a titter and feels and unfamiliar pressure wash over him, as though held in a loving embrace.   He dreams of someone he’s never met before, but who he feels deeply connected to.  She smiles wide, her teeth brilliantly gleaming, and her eyes practically aglow with life.  She’s a part of him, and he couldn’t stand the thought of ever being apart from her.  They do everything together, and when they embrace, it’s like having a second skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He awakens in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. </span>
  <em>
    <span> “Oopsie!”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  a voice he’s heard before laughs in deranged glee as the flash of a muzzle goes off against his side.  Izuku has been in the presence of gunfire before and has treated several bullet wounds, but he has several questions about why he’s being shot at near point-blank, especially considering he was just asleep like a minute ago.  What the hell is going on?  There’s a stinging pain in his side, but he’s surprisingly unbothered by the bullet wound apparently, because without any real input on his part his body lunges toward the closest combatant[?] and a collection of blood-red tendrils impale them like some unfortunate museum piece.  Their expression a rictus of horror, and the gurgling of punctured lungs are the stuff of Izuku’s nightmares and he realizes this must be one of them.  A sort of calm settles upon him as his body sets about laying brutal waste to the nameless thugs he’s apparently in the middle of killing.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not the first violent dream he’s ever had, but it has been a while since he was lucid through one.  And this dream in particular seems excessive compared to all others.  The screams of terror, the stink of blood and waste, the snap of bones, and the awful sound of flesh being pulled apart like taffy.  It’s so much worse than it was the last time.  When all before him lie in pieces strewn about and his body is finished with its animalistic motions, some degree of control seems to return to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re taking this even better than I could have hoped you would.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A joyful and smirking voice speaks into his mind.  He sluggishly casts about for the source only to find himself in the dark alleyway, all alone.  That’s new, maybe he should finally book an appointment with that psychologist Michiko suggested to him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Sweet Meat, a psychologist wouldn’t help you any with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice purrs, and he feels like he should probably be more concerned about the mysterious other voice he’s hearing in the middle of a murder dream, but her voice is familiar in an unexplainable way, and the sound of it fills him with a contented warmth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But gosh if that isn’t the most romantic thought about me I’ve ever heard!  I would swoon if I had a body of my own.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From his side, another tendril of red fleshy matter stretches out and seems to pool into a vaguely humanoid shape.  It's vague enough that he can't identify very much of anything about it, but whatever it is, he gets the feeling that it's not a threat to him in any way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"My name, Sweet Meat of mine, is Toga.  And you are a wonderful host, I have to say."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, dream voice, vaguely identifiable shape, distinct identity.  Yeah, he's snapped, hasn't he?  Toga is... well he has no basis for comparison, but as far as alternate personalities[{?} yeah he'll go with that for the moment] go she seems nice.  He has to wonder why his fractured psyche is manifesting as a female?  He's always been comfortable as a male, he thinks, and he's made peace with his bisexuality since he first started thinking boys and girls were both cute.  He should probably get a couple books on psychology and read through them in his free time when he wakes up again.  His previous cursory study of the subject is helping at the moment, but he only put enough time into the subject to make use fo it through his analysis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Heloooo?~  You still with me Sweet Meat?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right, he's still mid-dream conversation-ing with his other personality[?].  He clears his throat and reaches out toward the figure, noting that a thin tendril of material still connects the two of them.  If he were more poetic he might compare it to the red string of fate, a thought that seems to earn a squeal of girlish joy from "Toga"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh, you know just what to say, don't you!  You're literally perfect."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is he really so lonely and starved for affection he's dreamed up a for lack of a better term waifu alternate personality?  He might just start crying if that's the case.  He still hasn't introduced himself to "Toga", and although he's unsure about how wise it is to interact in this way with an alternate personality[?] he finally makes use of the polite manners his mother drilled into his head from a young age.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Midoriya Izuku.  It's very nice to meet you, Toga.  Umm, may I ask what you're doing here?  What's going on?  Context, in general, would be very much appreciated."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Toga" titters and Izuku notices that as she's been standing there interacting with him, the bodies [and chunks of meat no longer identifiable as having been part of bodies] are being slowly drawn in toward the figure by similar thin red tendrils as the one binding him to her.  She licks her lips [and oh, he can sort of identify a few of her features now - like those wickedly sharp teeth] and presses a hand to her jaw in a familiar motion to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Well, Izu-zu, I was pretty hungry ya'know.  Near-death experiences really take it out of a girl, and you were just so sleepy that I figured you wouldn't mind me taking you for a quick ride out to find some fresh and tasty snackies!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The closest of bloody chunks sinks into her form and she doesn't seem to react except to become slightly more distinctive in shape.  He notes that he feels the pain of that gunshot almost totally fade away as well, and figures it's some sort of dream metaphor or similar.  He takes a moment to look around and realizes that he knows where they are, they're only about 3 or 4 blocks from his little apartment, in the territory of a drug-running gang that the local heroes have all been paid off by.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The violence might be a representation of his own subconscious desires for swift and horrific vengeance to come down upon those sorts of people, and what little guilt he might have felt at being in any way related to the gruesome deaths is washed away by a warm feeling of satisfaction and... fullness?  Toga has finished "consuming" the last of the bodies, and now the only hint as to what happened here is the still fresh spatters of blood on nearly every surface around them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Ahh, thanks for the meal!  You're probably still super sleepy, huh Izu-zu?  Well don't worry about a thing, I'll get us back to your place in a jiffy.  You can just go back to sleep now if you want, or we could keep getting to know each other a little better!  I'm up for whatever you wanna do."</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Drunken Depression's a Real Bitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Miirio is tired.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mirio is tired.  He's so desperately tired, of everything and of almost everyone.  He smiles, obviously, but ... deep inside where all his hopes used to burn so brightly now sits a cold engine.  He's... frustrated!  And yeah, he gets that it's stupid to cry over spilled milk, but he, like so many others, defined himself by his quirk.  It's been years since his was burned out of him by a psychopath with a god complex, and he's made... well not peace, but he's at least accepted that he's never gonna get it back.  He's never going to get a lot of things back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole Hero business honestly leaves him feeling exhausted more often than not nowadays.  He still does what he can, he's still in the gym on every other day, and he still helps the new kids at UA learn how to fight.  His experiences under his now-late mentor haven't gone to waste, but he never did make it to 1,000,000, and he almost assuredly never will.  That's not even looking at what the contemporary selection of heroes looks like.  Underground's as overworked as ever, but at least they're all true, and they try their best.  Billboard Heroics on the other hand is a fucking mess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brutes and violent animals, pandering and posing for their next big paycheck.  Merchandising deals are a more motivating factor than anything else nowadays, and behind that is the nigh-unregulated power heroes wield.  The top 10 is thick with sociopaths, and off the top of his head, he can only think of maybe a dozen heroes who really act heroically?  He wonders where everything went so god damn wrong.  Was it the day Chisaki Kai managed to get away after destroying Mirio's hard-earned future?  Was it with the death of All Might live on every station, that horrible night in Kamino?  Was it before that when The League of Villains killed literal children at one of the most secure learning institutions on the planet?  Or was it something else, even before his memory stretches out to?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His memory would probably be better if he didn't soak it through with so much fucking alcohol, but he'd learned pretty quickly that quirkless meant jobless and jobless left you with a lot of time on your hands.  Nezu, Aizawa, and UA, in general, have been keeping him out of the poorhouse as an unofficial TA, but he sees the way people look at him, the way some people talk behind his back, and it's either drink away his self-loathing or start fucking swinging, and he doesn't want to lose his pseudo-job.  After one last glass, he gets up, tosses down his tab, and walks out half-stumbling to get to his apartment.  He's not too worried about being mugged.  He doesn't have anything on him that's worth taking, and even drunk he can swing like a champ.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow he ends up in a park, and he considers just lying down and passing out, but no he still has some self-respect, he's not homeless and he just plain doesn't want to sleep on the ground when a much more comfortable bed is waiting for him not that far away.  He says that, but somehow he ends up stumbling through the wooded area of the park, tripping over every god damned root and bush that he possibly can.  The smell of smoke seems to be drawing him in and maybe it's still ingrained instinct that pulls him in instead of scares him off, but he follows the smell to a small crater with a still steaming... something sitting there neatly.  It's vaguely metallic, and it's glowing red hot from punching through the atmosphere, so he just plops down to stare at it until it cools off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's always wanted a moon rock, and when he was very young he wanted to be a spaceman, so maybe he's feeling nostalgic and he wants to take it home with him.  Blame his drunkenness for not considering how potentially dangerous the idea is.  He shuts his eyes for a moment and when he opens them back up an unfamiliar young man is half-dragging, half carrying him back out onto the park's path.  He grumbles and shoves the other figure off, stumbling to the ground before looking up at the green-haired young man with his bright yellow cat-slit eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>"Easy there, I'm not trying any funny business, I just figured you'd be better off sleeping on a bench than in the middle of the woods."</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guy's voice is weird, like two voices layered atop each other, but Mirio's head is spinning and he might just be imagining that.  He moves to respond, but all that comes out is an evening's worth of drinks and cheap bar-food half-digested, into the grass.  The other figure turns away to give him a bit of privacy and Mirio appreciates that quietly spitting up the rest of his "dinner" and groaning unpleasantly for a minute before addressing the green-haired man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Right, sorry about that.  Hard... hard week, I guess.  I've got a place of my own, must have just hit the glass a bit harder than I thought."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The green-haired man turns back to look at him again and his eyes are normal and green now, looking at him with concern.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you going to be alright getting back there?  I'm an EMT, I don't mind helping you get back home if you'll let me help you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio would usually wave the offer of help off, but he's feeling pretty shit actually, and he's already thrown up in front of this guy, not like he can make a bigger fool of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shucks, man.  I appreciate it.  Here, just uh, help me up and I'll point the way.  I dunno if I can walk with how fucked up I am right now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why does he feel so shitty anyway?  He didn't really drink that much.  It feels like he's on the verge of a fever, and his head is pounding.  Maybe it's for the best that a medic is the one who found him, and what a swell guy at that to pull him out of the shrubbery for his own sake.  With a grunt of some effort, the guy helps him up and Mirio resumes his place leaned up against the slightly shorter dude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm Mirio, by the way.  Thanks for the help, I dunno if you hear it at all, but I think medical personnel are just as much Heroes as the pros, so good onya for that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man goes still and looks to him with a smile and a sad look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Izuku, don't mention it Mirio, and thank you.  It means a lot to hear that from someone."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn't take very long before Izuku's dropping him off at his apartment, and leaving him his phone number just in case his symptoms worsen.  Neither of them thinks the forwardness is particularly strange until after the fact, but Mirio's just kind of happy he maybe has someone to talk to now who isn't in the Hero business. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. All of Life, Is Carnage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special thanks to my friend, epitomyzedTyrant for writing the scene in the convenience store for me.  IT gave me a great segway out of a bit of writer's block I had going on.  Go check out his stuff, Sea of Rust is 10/10 top Tier if you ask me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s the middle of the day when Izuku wakes up again and for about ten whole minutes he lies in his bed staring up at the ceiling.  The curtains are drawn, thankfully, so the light isn’t grating at his eyes, but there is a bizarre sort of … something that makes him feel like he’s on the verge of a migraine.  Everything seems a little bit too in focus.  All the colors are too sharp, every breath he takes is too loud, every scent in the air is too strong, and somebody must be screaming just outside of the window for how clearly he can hear what they’re saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear to god Jun if you don’t get rid of that stupid fucking pillow you can call this engagement off…  I don’t care if it’s ironic!  I’m not marrying a man who has a dakimakura in his bedroom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hopes that Jun can get his shit together and that the nameless yelling woman isn’t being wholly serious.  Love should be stronger than a dakimakura could destroy, not that he knows jack shit about love.  He barely fucking knows anything about attraction in general considering he spent all his youth as the world’s punching bag and social pariah.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why’s he so bitter and angry already?  He’s usually much better about burying his negative thoughts and feelings down, it’s part of why he generally avoids drinking after all.  Holy hell is he hungry, and warm.  He pulls off his sweaty sleep-shirt and tosses it into a corner of the room to be dealt with later.  He stumbles, grumbling aloud the whole time, toward his kitchen where he thinks he still has a bit of takeout he can scarf down to tide him over until he can get showered and dressed to go out for something more sustaining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Food?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice stops him mid-stretch and he worriedly looks around at the thought that his house has been broken into.  He doesn’t feel very relieved as he finds himself alone, because his dream from the previous night is coming back to him.  That voice was remarkably similar to -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I might be a dream come true for you Sweet Meat, but last night was no dream.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He clutches at his head, because oh shit he’s actually gone insane.  He pinches himself, and yeah, no he’s awake.  Toga [he still isn’t sure if addressing his shattered psyche is healthy or not, but he’s too polite not to use a name he’s been given] titters cheerfully and he can almost feel her running her hand over his cheek in what would normally be a comforting and semi-intimate gesture.  That he can feel her like she’s there with him suggests a rather more deep fracture in his mind than he could have imagined.  He’s very rapidly downwardly spiraling and it’s only when Toga projects from him as she did last night [via the red string of fate] that she can get him out of his muttering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop freaking out!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smooshes his cheeks in between her hands, and he really gets the chance to look at her.  She’s clearly not human, with gently undulating strands of the same sort of stuff as makes up the red string of fate making up almost all of her body, and brilliantly glowing yellow slits for eyes.  She looks like a mass of blood and muscle fibers in constant liquid motion, and in spite of how horrific she is, he can’t feel anything but a sort of … awe when looking at her.  She’s posing for him, stretching lithely this way and that, and he watches with a grim fascination at the way small pulsing tendrils surface and submerge all over her at random, seemingly unintentional intervals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Toga?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him with frighteningly sharp and concerningly plentiful gleaming white teeth.  Through their connection he can feel her anxiety, bubbling quietly underneath her joyful exhibitionism.  She wants him to accept her, and so after the awkwardly silent few moments, he finds himself smiling right back.  The warmth he feels from her redoubles and she strides toward him with loud, cheerful motions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Izuku!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her body crashes into him and instead of the expected weight of a body against his own, she splashes over him like thick oil and seems to settle over his torso, half coating him and leaving him half exposed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Much comfier like this.  Not so loud, or smelly, or hot with the two of us at peace with each other.  You don’t mind, do you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku considers it.  He doesn’t really mind, per se, but he’s actually still not sure if he’s somehow going insane.  Also, he doesn’t know how people would react to him suddenly going around everywhere with such a distinctive and never-before-seen power out on open display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, but I need to get used to this, I think.  I’m too hungry to think about this right now, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood-red goo sinks through his clothes and back under his skin and he feels the world return to its previous overbearing intensity.  He already misses Toga’s embrace, but he’ll deal with the discomfort for the moment.  He needs to go down to the store to grab some food.  He’s got a very specific hunger for tater tots for some reason and it’s like, the only thing on his mind at the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ ~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barely registers the hiss of the sliding door, or the hum of the fluorescent lights above his head as he walks into the corner market. He grimaces out of sight of the owner, the scent of cleaning chemicals is sharp and overpowering, so much worse than he’s smelled anything like in years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So grumpy about having your damaged nostrils healed!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The new voice in his head coos at him, her voice a caress across the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is increased hunger a symptom that was present alongside auditory hallucination? Perhaps the other way around...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he loads his handbasket with an assortment of foods that dance between energizing and lethally carb-laden his attention is grabbed by the television. Muscular, the slab of murder meat himself has been sighted again somewhere. He scowls, green eyes boring into the TV. Pointless murder, unabated by the failed attempts of dozens of heroes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He suddenly feels like he could tear someone's head off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Would that cheer you up Sweet Meat? To take apart that murderer piece by piece, and let me feast on his soft little brain?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hates to admit the violent whispers hold a certain... appeal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanders up to the counter, and with half a mind carries on the usual rote conversation with the young cashier. His hunger gnaws at him with a nearly unrestrainable intensity, which he barely keeps from tainting his conversation. Out of his peripheral, he watches a middle-aged man outside anxiously pull on a ski mask and palm a knife. As he is handed his bags the man enters, and for fuck’s sake this is not something he wants to deal with today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scowls, and nearly growls at the man as he walks towards the exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do not want to do this right now. Turn around and go home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The terror on the poor man's face as he turns and runs doesn’t register, these tater tots are almost speaking to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yessssss... The Tots...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nevermind, it’s just the voice in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rushes home with an unprecedented urgency, and as soon as the door is shut behind him it’s like he’s returned to an animal’s mindset.  He tears open one of the boxes of shitty processed frozen potato chunks and he tears into it without even bothering to warm them up.  The chunks stand no chance against his teeth, and he feels like maybe that’s abnormal, but until he’s demolished another two boxes of tots it’s like higher thought has been suspended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was it good for you too, Sweet Meat?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku’s face goes slightly flush at the purr of Toga’s voice, and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at how ridiculous the morning has been.  He looks at his watch and notes that it’s only been 2 hours since he woke up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The details of last night’s “not dream” are finally coming back to him and settling in for real.  He killed people last night.  He was shot at least once, and if Toga’s a part of him, then he also [tangentially] partook in cannibalism.  He looks down at his hands, at the hands of a murderer, and he feels the tots threaten to come back up again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hush, hush sweetness.  You didn’t eat them, you didn’t kill them, not really.  I don’t know why it bothers you so much, but I don’t like you feeling bad like this.  You were asleep the whole time, I assimilated them into my own biomass, all of that last night was just me.  You’re still my hero, you know?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hero?  The word stops him from leaping over the cliff of his tenuous calm into an abyss of panic and anxiety.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How… How could I be anyone’s hero?  I’m pathetic, and even if…  even if you’re not just some insane imagining and I didn’t do everything that happened last night, people are dead now, because of me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gets the distinct impression that Toga is studying him, looking him up and down from the inside, and coming to a conclusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You saved my life, Izuku.  Last night, at the crash you reached out for me.  I’ve… I’ve been in love before, tried to share my love with others before, but never did they reach out for me.  Never has it been so mutual as it has been with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sensation of her wrapping him up in a [literal] full-body hug is grounding and he steps a little bit further back from the edge of panic.  If he can just focus on the good that he did for Toga [and he neglects to ponder over her actual existence] then, maybe … he’s not just a monster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Consider this, Beloved.  Those ‘people’ I assimilated?  They were in the middle of beating someone to death when I stumbled onto them.  At first, I was just going to watch all the pretty shades of red, but then I felt what you would have wanted to do.  You wanted to help save them, so I stopped the bad guys.  They were killers too, you know?  One of them tried to cut our throat open, another stabbed us through the heart with a spike the size of their arm, and another one shot us at point-blank range.  The world is better off without them, don’t you agree?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, when she puts it like that, sharing the memories and the sensations [dulled to a non-debilitatingly-painful degree] of every mortal wound, he can’t help but think that perhaps she’s right.  He shakes his head and thumps himself on the temples.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“E-Even if they were bad people, terrible people, they didn’t deserve to die so horribly!  I… We’re not Judge, Jury, and Executioner.  Nobody should have that kind of power!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What about the Heroes?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes blow wide and he wheels about as though addressing someone physically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Heroes.  In your memories, I can see how many of them have slain their fellow humans in order to save others.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s - That’s different!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her tone is legitimately curious, confused about why he seems to be getting so agitated, and he just can’t understand how this isn’t common sense to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They have licenses!  Training!  A-And it’s never supposed to be their first resort!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So a slip of plastic makes it okay?  I’m not even human, so for me, it’s like nature taking its course, you know.  And don’t lie to yourself Beloved.  I don’t have to be in here with you to see how little you believe that ‘Last Resort’ story.  Endeavor has how many kills on his record?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind supplies the answer before he can clamp his mouth shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“476”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes blow wide and Toga presses the attack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Edgeshot?  Snipe?  Miruko?  All Might?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“35, 90, 15, 2”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ground Ze-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“STOP!  Please, no more!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku collapses to his knees and tears stream down his cheeks as the reality he’s been refusing to believe is forced in front of his eyes.  He feels like Toga is watching him as he shatters passively.  Non-judgmentally, but not moving to help him up either.  He sobs and curls up in a ball, the only comfort being her warm full-body embrace.  He shuts his eyes, and the intensity of everything seems to dull down back to a manageable level.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“We don’t want to hurt anymore.  It’s better to be free of this guilt.  The best of our heroes are just like us.  All animals are killers, in the end, and at their most basic.  It’s not something to be disgusted by or ashamed of.  All of Life, Is Carnage”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure, that is no longer just Izuku, and no longer just Toga rises with a sluggish sort of grace and looks around the room.  Their body ripples and undulates, always keeping a human sort of figure, but never leaning too far toward masculine or feminine.  Gleaming golden cat slit eyes narrow and observe the clenching of a fist as an idea takes an unshakable root.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“We are Carnage.”</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. It's not a date!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mirio and Izuku have some drinks, but it's definitely not a date.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If Izuku seems a bit OOC in this chapter I'd like to remind you that in the previous chapter his entire world view was essentially shattered mercilessly.  He's in a ... certain state of mind.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mirio’s not too sure it’s a great idea to go back to the bar when that alleyway massacre thing happened only a couple nights ago, but he quiets those worries down with the fact that he was actually out and about on that night and he wasn’t targeted.  Hell, he even made a new friend [sorta], and they never did actually find any bodies, just a lot of blood.  Also, he’s fucking bored again, and he can only stand being around Hado, Aizawa, Nezu, and the others for so long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice on the other side of the line is uncertain, as though unused to actually being called, but Mirio doesn’t pay it any mind.  He’d wonder why the guy is up so fucking late if he didn’t know about his whole EMT thing.  Probably a nocturnal kind of guy to begin with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hiya!  I dunno if you remember me, but this is Mirio.  We met the other night-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In the park, yes, I remember.  Are you doing well, Mirio?  Not in any trouble I hope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio chuckles and waves a hand in a motion that goes unseen by the other half of the conversation.  He doesn’t know how old Izuku is, but he didn’t seem old enough to be pulling the concerned old man routine on him.  Then again, with quirks in the mix, maybe he was like 50 or something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, not my best or brightest, and thanks again for being a good fellow.  I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of silence from the other side that leaves Mirio wondering about what could be causing it.  No hints one way or the other, so his imagination begins to fill with worry at having been hung-up on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not tonight, no.  I was considering going out on a walk, but beyond that, I’m pretty much open.  Why do you ask?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio smiles in a way that feels more real than he has in months.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming out to get a couple drinks with me.  Not like a date or anything, just to get to know each other better.  I’m uh-  well, I’m kinda short on friends I can just… relax around, if you get my meaning.  Not to put you on the spot or anything, totally cool if you’d rather not hang out with the guy who blew chunks all over the side of the road the first time you met him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs self-deprecatingly and curses Hado for her habit of rambling way beyond the point of polite conversation.  She’s gone and infected him with it now, apparently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- That sounds nice, Mirio.  Are you sure you should be drinking again so soon?  I’d rather not have every interaction of ours involve vomit in some way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio barks out a laugh and hears Izuku chuckle over the line as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m not actually sure why I got so sick that night.  I’m usually a lot better with my liquor.  Might be that bar, so I was gonna leave the ‘where’ up to you if you accepted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku hums and seems to lean away from the phone to hold a short chat with someone unheard before replying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good, I’ll text you an address and we’ll meet up around 11 if that’s alright for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio is giddy with anticipation already.  He looks at his watch and sees it’s just about 7, so he’s got time to make himself presentable.  The thought makes him blush because holy cow he’s like a schoolgirl with a crush or something.  He’s pretty sure he’s not gay, considering he and Hado had that ‘thing’ going on, and he’s never been attracted to any guys before, is he really so desperate for companionship that his brain is mistaking it for love of a sort?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Right!  I’ll uh, see you tonight, man.  Later!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hangs up and runs a hand over his forehead and through his hair.  Well, he was planning on showering anyway, but with how sweaty he is, he definitely needs to.  He’s got some time on his hands, so he doesn’t have to rush, but he goes ahead and starts getting ready anyway.  The text comes in as he’s walking into the shower, and he only sees it when he hops back out, and he chuckles to himself as the bar that Izuku sent him is the same one he usually hits.  Hopefully, it was just something he ate then, he doesn’t wanna embarrass himself by spewing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Mirio shows up to the bar, he finds Izuku standing outside in a comfy-looking red leather jacket and some comfortable looking denim cargos.  The red ankle boots convince him to look around and sure enough, he sees a bike parked not too far down the road.  Mirio himself likes to ride when he feels like taking a trip [although lately that’s been pretty much never - depression does that] and he’s familiar with a fair few of the nicer kinds of cruisers.  What Izuku’s riding looks like it was built from scrap at best.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sees no maker’s marks, and every bit of exposed metal is either rusted or scratched and dented.  The engine looks to be well cared for, but ancient, and the ‘seat’, if it can be called as such, is falling apart to the point that he has to imagine Izuku’s ass is in constant dull pain from any bumps he might hit.  Mirio isn’t really the sort of person to think about people in terms of their wealth, but he feels very grateful that he’s not riding around on anything like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mirio, hey.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde is snapped out of his musings when Izuku claps him on the shoulder in a friendly and familiar way.  There’s something a little bit different about the way he’s carrying himself than there was the other night, but Mirio chalks it up to being earlier in the night.  He has only just met the dude, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, Izuku.  Not too far out of the way for you, I hope?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku waves him off and begins walking his way into the bar, sending a nod to the tender and making a couple hand motions that suggests a deep familiarity between them before replying to his partner for the evening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I was meaning to take a ride anyway.  Gotta keep my bike’s engine active at least every other day or it gunks up something awful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio chuckles and plops down into a stool beside the greenette and tries to get the bartender’s attention the way Izuku did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I saw your bike out there.  Never seen another like it, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bartender finally sees him as they bring Izuku’s two drinks over and Mirio makes his request with a smile.  Izuku shoots back the first of the two small drinks and grimaces before offering the second to Mirio.  He of course doesn’t want to be rude, so he shoots it back and nearly chokes on the most bitter thing he’s ever tasted in his life.  Izuku begins laughing cruelly and wipes a tear from his eye before clapping Mirio on the back with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I’m sorry Mirio.  Probably should have warned you about that one.  It’s honestly the worst thing I can imagine drinking, but I always start off my nights with it if I’m gonna be drinking.  It reminds me not to get too crazy.  It’s extra important tonight considering I’ve gotta get the junker back when we’re all done here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio supposes that’s a reasonable thing, and he guesses he probably won’t ever live down the whole barf thing, so he just takes the warning for what it is.  His own drink slides up in front of him and he takes a healthy drink to try and wash it’s predecessor down.  Izuku continues, now that he knows he hasn’t killed the friendship in its infancy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bike’s definitely unique, considering I put it together myself.  I’m sure you can guess where most of the parts came from just by looking at it, but before you ask, the shocks are good, and the engine’s reliable, if a bit temperamental.  It gets me where I need to go, and nobody wants to trash a bike that’s already trash.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There has to be a story there, but Mirio doesn’t want to push his luck and ask about it yet.  Maybe a couple drinks in her will.  Instead he pulls out his phone and shares a picture of his own bike, hopefully Izuku won’t think he’s flaunting it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t been riding lately because of some… life stuff, but I can appreciate a bike, even one like yours.  How long did it take you to put her together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation continues like this, and for every two drinks Mirio orders, Izuku has maybe one.  He knows how to pace himself very well, and Mirio eventually feels loose enough to ask about the earlier comment Izuku made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, why would people be trashing your stuff?  You seem pretty cool, you’re an EMT, did you piss someone off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku looks at Mirio from the side with a tilt to his head, seemingly considering his response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I piss everyone off.  I’m quirkless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio’s heart stops for a second as Izuku takes a drawn-out sip from his drink.  Mirio is … surprised.  He’s only been quirkless himself for a few years now, he can’t imagine what growing up that way must have been like, and Izuku seems… not exactly comfortable with himself, but loads closer to self-certain than Mirio himself is.  He wants to ask about what his experience of life has been like, but even a bit drunk like he is he recognizes that that’s not really the sort of thing you talk about in a public place with someone you’re only just starting to get to know.  In a sort of impotent attempt at comfort, Mirio just returns his attention to his drink and claps Izuku on the back in as understanding a way as he can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They keep drinking for a couple hours longer, and when they part ways the awkwardness after the question is not nearly so thick.  Mirio wants to do this again sometime, so he asks his friend straight up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had a good time talking with you, man.  Can we do this again sometime?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t really remember if there’s like a procedure to making friends as an adult, the last time he really tried was just after losing his quirk, and it had not gone well.  So he just goes with his gut and asks earnestly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku looks Mirio up and down and after a few moments gives him a small tired smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, not too often, but I think I’d like that, Mirio.  I’ll talk with you later, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio smiles brightly and gives his new friend a wave, watching as he slips his dark green helmet on in a practiced motion and takes off with his engine roaring deeply.  With a fond sigh he begins walking his way home.  He feels pretty good, if a bit hungry, so he’ll maybe grab some take out before he goes home.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Finger Licking Good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*james Franco face*</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to upload this yesterday, but my internet situation is a bit fucky[technincal term right there] at the moment.  SHould be stabilized now, but heads up if I fucking disintigrate off the face of the internet for the next 6-ish weeks.  Special thanks to the IzuToga Hideout for being boundlessly enthusiastic about my writing[so far], it feels good to ramble on and get feedback on my ramblings so yeah.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m hungry, Izuku.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toga’s voice is a soft mewl in the back of his mind as he’s riding The Junker down lonely streets and past abandoned buildings.  Izuku’s not totally certain why he decided to come out into the worst part of town, or why he feels a sort of excited prickling sensation in the back of his skull at her words.  Maybe a part of him knows exactly what Toga is hungry for, and he sees it as an opportunity to do a little bit of good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hungry for what, Toga?  We still have a few boxes of frozen tater tots back home if you can hold on for a while longer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to ask to be sure.  He doesn’t want to assume, even with the two of them sharing a body and a deep connection between their minds.  He needs her to be crystal clear with him, to confront the reality of what he’s already considering doing for her.  It’s horrible, but it’s nothing he hasn’t already done, it’s nothing The Heroes themselves don’t do.  He’s useless on his own, but like this… well, even a monster like him can do some good, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Meat!  Fresh Meat, Izuku.  Sweet and bloody, warm, juicy and tough!  Tots are good, but they’re not enough!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voracious hunger surges through Izuku himself, and he imagines the sort of meal that would sate his partner.  He just needs to find someone the world would be better off without… besides him, of course.  He pulls to a stop beside Dagobah Municipal Park Beach, better known as The Trash Beach, and he sees exactly the sort of thing he was hoping he would.  About a hundred meters down the coastline a gathering of violent looking young people are making noise.  Firing off quirks, breaking already broken down bits of trash, and being incredible nuisances of themselves.  That all in itself is not nearly enough to warrant a death sentence like he’s dooming them all to, but he happens to know that these thugs are responsible for playing at a protection racket for a dozen businesses run by older folks in the area.  The kinds of places that barely make enough to scrape by, but which have been around since he was a kid himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even that might not be enough to assuage his guilt at the death he brings upon them, but if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, it’s mostly to do with the figure he sees at the center of all the commotion.  Dark hair, a stupid fucking smile with too many teeth, too straight, and dead eyes bereft of any empathy.  The way his fingers stretch is just like it used to be in middle and high school, and based on the lash marks on a few of the people around him his callous cruelty is just as casual as ever.  Izuku does remember his name, but he refuses to even think it.  This kind of self-avenging is distinctly vigilante territory as far as morality goes, but considering he’s already a murderer, he sees little point in trying to rein in his darker desires if they serve an ultimate good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fingers is the first to see him drawing nearer, and it’s with a cruel smirk that he snaps his too-long fingers to get everyone’s attention.  A dozen heads all turn toward Izuku, and unkind expressions form at this [to them] random idiot wandering into their territory.  The asshole in charge drawls out loud enough for Izuku to hear when he’s about ten feet away from the group.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ho-lee shit, if it isn’t Deku!  Ey, yo this is that quirkless loser I told ya fuckers about.  I’m surprised he hasn’t offed himself or gotten himself killed yet.  How’d your application to UA go, Deku?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The jerk laughs aloud and his goons all join in, moving to encircle the target of the night’s fun.  Izuku has no doubt that they’d beat him black and blue, but he wants to know if they’d take it further than that if they could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[ </span>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgVYyQD05uc&amp;">
    <span>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgVYyQD05uc&amp;</span>
  </a>
  <span> ]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t look like you’re doing any better than me, Fingers.  Is this where you’re living now?  I’d say it’s the right place for trash like you, but I’d have to apologize to the rest of the trash afterwards.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s gone insane.  He has to have done, because never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d get to let some of his bitter hateful resentment out like that.  It feels good, so good he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face at the look that crosses Fingers’ face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck did you just say to me?  You quirkless Bitch!  I’d have let you crawl your pathetic ass back home if you’d just taken your beating like you should have, for old time’s sake, but now I’m gonna get creative with how we hide your body when we’re done with it.  I wonder, how’s your old lady doing nowadays?  She was a real looker when she was young, huh?  Maybe I’ll pay her a visit after I’ve wiped your blood off my boots!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The threat upon his mother, soft, kind, Inko Midoriya is exactly the right kind of infuriating that Izuku can make up his mind.  As a set of over extended fingers lash out and whip across his face, his smile doesn’t wane, but it does sharpen.  The blows rain down on Izuku, leaving bruises, sending him to the ground in a heap and not once relenting or hesitating.  If he were anyone else, anyone without a quirk to aid in surviving such trauma, he’d be gasping out his last breaths.  Even with Toga a part of him, the beating is painful.  But he’s used to pain, familiar with it to such a degree that waking up without it the way he has been ever since finding Toga has been its own special sort of discomfort.  His everything hurts, but just like that it all clicks into place.  He is alive, and even as he coughs up some blood he begins to laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fuck?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yo this freak’s crazy, man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He has to be, to mouth off like he did, don’t act surprised.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Deku you fucking piece of shit!  What the fuck are you laughing about!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fingers roars and sends his fingers out again to whip at Izuku’s unprotected back, unable to stop their motion as Izuku seems to be swallowed up in a burst of bloody goo.  Several of the thugs startle at the sudden gore, one falls onto their ass, and Fingers’ fingers seem to get stuck in the sludge for long enough that he snarls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is this?!  You think that just because you finally found a quirk you can come up to me and mouth off?  Huh!?  You think you’re hot shit just cuz you’re not as useless as you used to be!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rant is silenced when with a wet squelch the fingers are seemingly slurped up, joining the biomass of the bloody spatter, ripping free of Fingers’ hand with sickening crunches and a horrible sort of titter that leaves everyone nearly frozen in place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“We are not useless.  We Are Carnage!  And you will not be missed!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sludge coalesces into a human shape, but too massive and openly monstrous.  As broad across as All Might in his prime, easily, and almost as tall.  The figure’s surface roils and shifts like muscle fiber liquified, and with another mad shrieking series of laughs the carnage begins.  Razor tipped tentacles shoot out from across Carnage’s body, stabbing through limbs and impaling thugs to the garbage all around them.  Pained shouts and terrified calls nearly drown out the continuous laughter, but the cacophony only continues to build.  Carnage descends, lightning-fast and perfectly merciless, upon a thug with minor super strength, ripping torso from legs and pulling those halves apart into quarters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chunks of formerly living, still warm flesh are thrown aside as Carnage manifests bladed limbs and begins to carve through the arrayed bodies before them.  From one to the next, heads are split down the middle, necks are sliced clean through, lungs are carved free of chests, and intestines are freed.  Only four of the thugs manage to dislodge themselves from their barbed imprisonment, and the heavy iron stench of such free-flowing blood calls to Carnage in a way they cannot ignore.  A blast of superheated air gives the Symbiote pause, and inspires a moment of hope within those who can still stand, but almost as soon as it has set in that they actually can at least stumble this thing, the one with that dangerous quirk is bodily slammed into the dirty sand, and the full force of Carnage crushes down upon them, smothering them dead, and shattering nearly every bone in their body before the lack of air can put them out of their misery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The remaining thugs begin attempting to run away, but it is simplicity itself for strands of blood red matter to launch out and ensnare those who flee, tripping them up and slowly, agonizingly slowly drawing them back in.  They all scream, one cries, another passes out [lucky them] and another soils themself pathetically.  All of them one by one are drawn slowly, intentionally so, into Carnage’s mass, where they struggle momentarily before going still and becoming a part of the whole.  When only Fingers remains, impaled through the gut, feeling absolutely nothing below the waist for his injured spinal column his face is streaked with tears, his eyes are blown wide at the absolute horror he’s just witnessed, and his throat is raw for all the screaming he’s been doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“And then there was one.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P-Please!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carnage stands feet away from the now paralyzed and soon to be dead thug, their expression a wicked smile with too many teeth, too many points, and those horrible gleaming eyes!  Fingers doesn’t know what he’s asking for, mercy?  Fat chance after what he’s just seen.  A quick death?  He can’t imagine Deku will be so kind.  No, Fingers has absolutely no clue what he’s begging for.  In that moment he remembers Bakugo, what would he do in this situation?  As Carnage’s mouth opens impossibly wide, Fingers comes to the thought that no matter what he’d claim, Bakugo would probably squeal like a pussy if he was faced with death the way Fingers is now.  It’s the last thought to run through his head as his entire upper half is swallowed whole, and assimilated near instantaneously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Tastes like revenge!  So Fucking Good!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carnage devours everything, all the flesh, all the meat and bone and as much of the blood as they can, even soaked into the sand as some of it is.  Their liquid body helps in that regard, and when the feast is complete, Carnage subsides, and Toga retreats back into Izuku’s weary body.  He’s been recovering at an aggressively accelerated rate, thanks to Carnage’s feeding, but the phantom pain isn’t likely to leave him soon, considering he just survived a beating that would otherwise have killed him.  Even so, he is grinning.  Tastes like revenge indeed.  He should be horrified with himself at the thought, disgusted with what he’s become, and appalled by what he’s just done, but the only thing he can feel is elation.  The world will despise him for what he’s done, what he knows he will continue to do, but if Toga can help him feel like this?  Can help him accomplish things like this?!  He needs only her love now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aww, babe!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tendril of red stretches out from his side and caresses his cheek like a lover’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t think I could have been any luckier than I was in finding you.  Whenever you want more of this, I will always be here for you.  I will never say no to you, Izuku.  I love you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tendril retreats into his side and he turns away from the destruction Carnage has wrought.  The air is still heavy with the scent of blood, but the ocean brine and the thick stink of all the rest of the garbage will eventually overpower it.  Nobody will bat an eye at this, and nobody will miss those who now scream inside of Carnage.  With a smirk, he cracks his neck and the voices go silent, dead now in every way they can be.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Coward and A Loser</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mirio is, and always will be a Hero in his heart.</p><p>Amajiki is afraid of his own shadow, or he would be if he ever stepped out into the sunlight.</p><p>An Extrovert meets his Introvert parasite/body-tentant.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'd like to apologize as deeply as I can through text media, because it's been a bit longer than I'm happy with since I last posted anything.  I'm trying to be better about that, but life's as they say, a bitch.  Extra love to YodaCar in the IzuToga Hideout, their enthusiasm is a driving force in my writing more of this, and to all of you who comment and who read.  You all are wonderful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mirio’s head kind of hurts, which isn’t particularly unexpected considering how much he and Izuku had to drink last night.  He’s actually surprised he can remember as much of their conversation as he does, all things considered.  It’s probably because they both paced themselves very well and because of how Izuku kept ordering glasses of water for them between drinks.  There’s something a bit odd about this headache though, it’s like… like it’s not really his?  That doesn’t make sense, but it’s the best way to describe what he feels like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like when you’re with a friend and they hurt themself in front of you, and you get a surge of sympathetic pain?  You suck your teeth and ask them if they’re alright even though you know they’re not.  It’s like that, but considering he’s just lying there in his living room all alone he has no idea who he’s being sympathetic to.  He tries to focus on where the “pain” seems most intense, and with a bit of a shock it’s like he can feel someone else in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Umm.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The presence does it’s best to escape his notice, but the dull pain continues to radiate like a beacon and Mirio’s attention never strays for very long.  After what has to be a few very confusing minutes for everyone involved, Mirio can feel the presence sigh, and [somehow] it turns to address him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“H-Hello.  Please don’t mind me.  I’m nothing to worry about, honest.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that only worries him further, why is there a distinctly separate voice in his head all of a sudden?  He didn’t hit his head on anything last night, he can remember everything too clearly.  Is he going nuts?  He hopes not.  Damn Hado for infecting him with her self interrogation schtick, he should probably call her and yell at her when she gets off her shift tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“N-no really, I’m nobody you want to acknowledge.  I’m just- just a figment of your imagination.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio very much doubts that, because his imagination has always been pretty loud and bold.  Even through his recent funk, his hopes and dreams haven’t lost their glowing golden sheen.  This so-called figment is dull and quiet like a scared animal huddled in the corner of the room.  His naturally caring nature may have been what cost him his quirk [or well, at least partially, he likes to think any decent human being would have leapt in front of that bullet], but it was also what made him such a great hero, for as long as he was allowed to be one.  He refuses to abandon the mysterious “figment” no matter what it says.  It’s in pain, and so he wants to help.  Eventually, it seems to sigh again and turns[somehow?] to address him once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“F-fine.  You want to help me?  I’m hungry.  I can survive like this, but unless I get some very special kind of food, the pain will be a constant.  I don’t think you’ll like what I’m hungry for though.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surely it couldn’t be anything so terrible?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Meat, fresh meat.  Brains specifically, if at all possible.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You see!?  I told you, but no, you have to try and be a hero to someone you don’t even know!  A parasite hitchhiking in your head.  I’d be better off dead, but I don’t want to die, so now here I am, doomed to an eternity of this gnawing hunger, and now that you know about me, you’ll probably try and excise me and I’ll die anyway.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice continues to catastrophize, and Mirio considers the situation.  He doesn’t know about parasites or head-borne hitchhikers, but there’s someone who needs his help in a way that he can help [even if the idea of eating a brain is gnarly], so he will help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How?  I can’t see you letting me have free reign over your body to go out and hunt until I’m full.  I’d probably just get us both killed doing that, knowing my luck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Mirio thinks, there’s always the butchers’ place?  Just cuz brains are gross doesn’t mean nobody eats them.  Quirks are wild things after all, and he’s heard of stranger desires.  Hado likes diced sea cucumbers in pistachio ice cream, so definitely not the grossest meal he’s ever heard of.  And hey, in some countries people eat brains for like dessert or something.  He’s pretty sure he saw that in a movie once!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Y-you’re being serious?  You’d do something so gross for me?  E-even after all that stuff about me being a parasite?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Mirio’s not sure how cool he is with the whole parasite thing, but he can’t help himself when he knows someone’s in pain.  He’ll help the bugger out and then they’ll set some ground rules.  Maybe figure out if the so-called parasite has anything to offer to his so far unwilling host.  If not?  Well, they’ll probably figure something out.  Mirio’s an optimist like that.  It helps that he knows Recovery Girl personally, and she’s one of the brightest medical minds he can think of, she’d probably be able to do something about the situation if something needed to be done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio pulls on a dark jacket after giving himself [and passing] the sniff test, the butcher’s not too far from his apartment, so he should be able to get some meat and probably even some brain before lunch-time.  Maybe he’ll get fancy and make a meal out of it.  At least the day’s shaping up to be a bit of variety compared to his usual mundane routine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Y-you’re a weird one.  B-but thanks, I do appreciate it.  Umm, I’ll try and think of how I can repay you, but I was never one of the stronger of my kin.  I’m actually kind of a huge loser, i-if I’m being honest.  All I can really do is shapeshift and stretch.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shapeshift, huh?  Well, Mirio thinks he might be able to work with that.  If the image his Hitchhiker is sharing with him is what he thinks it is, then he very much could make it work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Mirio, by the way.  We’ve forgotten to introduce ourselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dark blue tendril of oddly textured material stretches out from Mirio’s side and coils around the hand he thoughtlessly extended in greeting before he can drop it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“T-Tamaki.  Good to officially meet you then, Mirio.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tendril recedes and Mirio smiles as he puts a little more pep into his step.  It’s weird, he thinks, he’s got a parasite, but he feels more hopeful about his prospects now than he has since he lost his ability to be a hero.  He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get a license like he is, but he’s been considering going the vigilante route anyway.  Maybe this is the start of something beautiful.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lovey Dovey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Toga And Izuku go on a date and discuss where the future might lead.  It's very sweet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>“We think Not!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carnage sends out a series of tendrils toward a pair of fleeing away crooks as they attempt to abandon their fellow bank-robbers to the grisly fate that awaits them.  Those that stood to try and fight have been subdued and struggle in vain as the mass of blood-red goop covers their mouths and slowly climbs up their legs, savoring their terror.  Izuku thinks that maybe Toga’s sadism is affecting him, but what harm is there in enjoying one’s work?  Carnage doesn’t listen as streams of vile words and promises of vicious retribution spew from the largest of the assembled prey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking dead after tonight, you hear?!  I’ll spend the night inside and be right back out like a fucking revolving door!  And then you’ll get yours!  For this embarrassment, you and everyone you know is gonna fucking scream!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crook still thinks that Carnage is anything more than a ravenous animal doing a public service.  They still think their night will end in a jail cell and not as a bloody smear all over the street.  Carnage stops zoning out and begins to exert tension upon the loudmouthed fool, and it’s just at the most deliciously agonizing moment that interlopers arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop right there, Criminal Scum!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pair of familiar [to Izuku at least] Heroes arrive, one on foot, and the other swinging on wooden branches, and it’s not hard to see why they immediately jump to a sort of specific conclusion.  Carnage is not very friendly to look at, and there is a lot of blood all over the place.  Admittedly, most of it is Carnage’s, but the heroes don’t know that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Bit late, aren’t you two?  But just in time to interrupt my meal.  For the best, I suppose.  Although I do wonder, what exactly kept you?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kamui woods is a fairly well liked and respected hero.  He’s not as young as he used to be, and his quirk’s just the same as it was when he first debuted, but he’s got a good reputation for being compassionate and for learning from his past failures, to a degree.  His partner on the other hand, one Death Arms is slowing down with age.  And he was never very fast to begin with.  His outfit is just as stupid now as it was when he first showed up on the scene, and his competency as a hero has always been shaky at best.  Rumors abound of his involvement in several less than savoury methods of maintaining his popularity, local as it is, and if Izuku’s memory isn’t failing him, tonight’s robbery was a part of that.  The Punching Hero [and what an abysmal slogan that is] is the one to respond, and it’s not with words.  With a bellowed cry, the idiot man leaps at Carnage like a gorilla, and slams a two-handed blow straight into the monster’s face, spattering himself and all of the villains in gore.  Everyone is taken aback, even the “hero” himself, and that surprise is redoubled when the now decapitated figure continues to move, open palm striking the “hero” back with enough force to send him flying through a building’s storefront, and in so doing kicking up a great, obscuring cloud of dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kamui Woods attempts to clear the smoke by whipping his limbs around in a small vortex, but as he’s doing so, several wet squelches and strangles screams can be heard from in front of him.  The slime villain is gone, as are their entrapped victims, leaving behind only bundles of wealth, a fair amount of property damage, and a groaning partner of his.  Kamui is confused, but doesn’t allow it to stop him from tending to his older patrol-partner.  He’s going to have to call in a new, very dangerous villain, he thinks, and all they have to go off of is a [admittedly very distinct] physical appearance and a quirk.  It’s more than they sometimes have, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carnage comes to a stop a few blocks away in order to properly regenerate from their injury.  Such trauma would be debilitating to many, even to some of Toga’s weaker kin, but the pair have such perfect chemistry that even death will not keep Izuku and Toga apart for very long.  As his skull grows back out of the stump of his neck, Izuku imagines himself blowing a grateful kiss toward his beloved partner.  That he already trusts her enough to essentially back-up his personality, his memories, and all of his knowledge across her near physically-indestructible body speaks to the depth of their bond, just as much as her allowing for such intimacy does.  His hair is the last of him to reassemble, and when he is again whole, Carnage subsides to below the surface.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you, Izuku~!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The green-haired young man chuckles and kisses the small surge of blood-red matter that raises from his hand in an affectionate gesture that would leave onlookers embarrassed and baffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Toga.  We’ll need to be careful going forward from here now, though.  The Heroes have seen us together, and no matter how little real threat they pose to us, I do enjoy my work as an EMT, I do enjoy being able to walk around in regular everyday life, and if possible I’d like to keep living lthe way I have been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course!  I had an idea about that actually, Izu~.  Why don’t we just eat the Heroes too?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her tone is genuinely curious, and she’s so cute to him that he doesn’t feel particularly bothered by the thought that only a week previously would have mortified him.  He considers how he wants to respond.  It’s not like he can see the current Hero society as anything less than rotten and fetid, but most… many Heroes are legitimately good people.  They are doing good, even if they’re not always or even usually particularly heroic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not all the Heroes, silly!  Just the crappy ones!  Like that Death Arms guy!  All your sleuthing was confirmed when we ate those bank robbers after all, they were being paid to cause a mess, he’d get the boost in ratings from making such a flashy arrest.  That’s not cool, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, it very much is not, but even so… eating heroes is… well, it’s a bit much to think about right now.  He did just die [sort of] after all.  He’ll need to think about it, figure out the math behind whether or not killing a villainous Hero would do more good than taking them off the streets would.  He bumps into another pedestrian as he’s making his way to the Hospital he works out of and apologizes thoughtlessly before continuing onward.  When he arrives, he feels Toga settle into the creases of his mind.  For as vicious and voracious as she is, she’s shown a noticeable interest in his work as an emergency first responder.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The little humans all look so much cuter when they’re bloody and broken.  What’s not to enjoy about watching you put them back together?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost laughs aloud at the absurdity of the statement, he’ll have to have a discussion with Toga about how even if they are a monstrous, murderous abomination, that there will always be innocence to help how they can.  Perhaps the day will come when Carnage tears into “Hero” flesh, but Izuku has made it clear and will continue to make it clear that he will die [and take Toga with him when he does] before he kills someone who doesn’t have it coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re so cool when you’re resolute about things, Izuku~!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles at the warmth of Toga’s ardor when he finishes getting dressed and greets Machiko in their usual way.  A pair of clasped hands and a quiet nod.  The night’s only just started, but Izuku has a feeling that it’ll be a busy one.  When the call comes in that Endeavour’s been spotted giving chase to an unknown villain, he smiles mirthlessly.  The current Number One Hero is definitely the kind of person that he would feel no qualms with siccing Carnage on, but he’s not so deluded to think that doing so would be anything less than massively destabilizing to the fragile society they all live in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like Stainy said, society has to change, someone has to leave a mark so dark that everyone has no choice but to see it.  We could be that someone, Izuku!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku should probably be more concerned about Toga rummaging around in his memories, but he did voluntarily share all of himself with her after all, and he can’t deny that the thought is a compelling one.  To change the world, to shatter a broken society, to be made immortal in history, would that be anything but the classical definition of Heroic?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look alive Little Izu, we’re heading out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Izuku certainly feels very alive as he sits in the ambulance, off toward their next destination.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. If I Had the Chance, I'd Ask The World to Dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What better way to make peace with the entity living in one's head than to go out and make a bit of mischief together, away from silly concerns like the law?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Extra special apologies to you all for the huge delay on this chapter.  Life continues to happen, but that should be no excuse.  Thanks to Yoda car in the discord again, you're such an enthusiastic friend, I love ya!  Something I've noticed is that Mirio/Amajiki chapters are paced very differently from Izu/Toga ones.  Probably because the former are following a plot, and the latter are essentially just violent catharsis with a lot of horny falling in love going on at the same time.  It's great fun to write, I assure you all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mirio wonders if he should be relieved or disgusted with himself when he takes his first bite of brain.  It’s goat brain, and it stinks more than almost anything he’s voluntarily put into his body before, but sliced, seasoned, grilled and then sauced he finds that it actually isn’t bad.  Maybe his brain-tennant altered his sense of taste to make this more bearable?  That’d be kind of him, but it’d also be a pretty big red flag that he could just change the way Mirio was wired up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I-I haven’t done anything to you, Mirio.  I’m keepin’ to myself in here as much as I can.  I don’t want you to have any reason to give me the boot.  Or to leave me with the scary little old lady.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, maybe telling Amajiki horror stories about his time at UA wasn’t the nicest way to pass the time as he figured out how to prep [literal] brain-food, but one of Mirio’s greatest mottos is “Looking back, you’ve always got 20/20 vision.”  He’ll learn from his mistake and try not to freak out his head-friend again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please do.  I scare easy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s funny, Mirio thinks,  here he is, former hero hopeful, now sort of a drunken loser, stumbles onto an actual real-life alien, and they turn out to be a chicken.  Hado would probably die of laughter after asking a million and a half questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please, let’s not let her find out about me if we can help it.  If she’s half as… curious as you describe her, then I have no doubt she’ll overwhelm me before her first breath.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio finishes wiping down his plate as he’s chuckling at the thought and he looks at the clock over his oven.  It’s about to hit early evening, and he’s eager to give his idea a try.  How can he kill the next three or four hours?  What he wants to do isn’t exactly illegal per se, but it’ll be difficult to explain that in any reasonable way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Umm, I could… tell you about the others?  Although I feel like most of them wouldn’t appreciate me b-blabbing.  They almost all kind of… hated me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio wonders why that should be?  Amajiki’s been pretty reasonable for a brain-riding self-described parasite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, that was kind of the problem.  Most of them were pretty power-hungry.  More than that though, they were all very… elitist, I guess would be the right term.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio asks while pulling up a chair and sitting in it with the back against his chest.  If he’s gonna spend a while talking to himself [kind of literally] he’ll do it in comfort, not standing up in the middle of the room like a weirdo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They all agreed that other races were pretty much just tools to be used.  And I think that some of them felt that way about each other too.  I guess I’m lucky that I was too weak to be pulled into their power games, but… it was pretty lonely.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeesh, sounds like a bunch of dicks if you ask Mirio.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s certainly one way of putting it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But they couldn’t all have been that bad, right?  You said it was only </span>
  <span>most</span>
  <span> of them who were power-hungry and hated you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio can feel a sort of chill race up Amajiki’s metaphorical spine and he wonders what could be so bad as to elicit such a response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, there was </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> of the others who was also pretty much excluded from everything.  There was something wrong with them though.  For most of us, pain is pretty fleeting, it’s what it is, and that’s that, but for them, it was like… intoxicating.  And they had a serious fixation with bonding. The others weren’t so much disinterested in them as they were afraid and disgusted.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t what we’re doing bonding?  What’s wrong with that?  I thought you needed to bond to survive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, yes, but if we were back where I’m from I would be just fine on my own in a quiet little nook out of everyone’s way.  Eating the scraps left behind by everyone else and staying out of trouble whenever I could.  With them it was… perverse is the word I think that best describes it.  So nobody ever interacted with them after the first couple attempts to pull them into the politics.  They always ended up eating whoever was trying to manipulate or kill them anyway.  Even the biggest of us tried to just avoid them for our own sakes as much as for our feelings about them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eating?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did I say eating?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did, yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, umm, yeah.  What you would consider cannibalism was a pretty regular occurrence for my species.  The strongest of us would consume others to take their powers for their own.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then how’d you keep off the menu?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio asks with a glance at the clock, noting how it’s finally beginning to darken outside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not worth the effort to hunt me down.  All I can do is shapeshift, we’re amorphous blobs of sentient slime.  We’re all pretty malleable as far as shape is concerned, and I’m pretty good at running away.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The self-described parasite doesn’t sound proud of the statement, even if it’s the closest to certain sounding they’ve ever been to Mirio. The blonde thinks that if he’s gonna make this whole hair-brained scheme work, then he’s going to have to work on Amajiki’s confidence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do you want to do this anyway?  Not to put ideas in your head or anything, but I feel like you could probably go about helping people in ways that are less dangerous and less only-technically-legal.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio cups his lower jaw in thought because he’s asked himself the question before.  Why risk his life and his wellbeing like this?  He thinks that he’s found his answer, but he won’t be sure until he gives this a serious try, and now that darkness has fallen over the city. He’s gonna take the opportunity to do just that.  Amajiki keeps quiet, either patiently waiting or not commenting on going ignored as Mirio grabs his phone, his keys, and walks out of his apartment.  He pulls the tarp off his bike and opens the door to the small garage he keeps it in before starting the engine and pulling on his helmet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ride isn’t particularly long, or hard, and there’s not much traffic to contend with along the route so Mirio gets to the quiet out of the way walking path he’s familiar with in good time.  Amajiki seems to enjoy the sensation of rushing wind and Mirio can’t help but agree with a smile.  Even if things don’t work out the way he really [desperately] hopes they do, he shouldn’t let his funk take riding away from him.  The sensation is deeply enjoyable, he just needs the motivation to gear up again, and the roar of his bike’s engine beneath him makes him feel less powerless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can just look through your thoughts, but I figure you wouldn’t appreciate that at all.  S-so, Uhm, what are we doing again?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio begins to stretch like he’s about to do some of his more enthusiastic routines, hope, and fear rushing through his veins the whole while leaving him sweaty and smiling in a way he hasn’t been since he first slipped on his old hero costume as a first-year at UA.  When he’s finally feeling limber he responds to the question he left floating in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[ </span>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpo2y4yWFFc&amp;">
    <span>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpo2y4yWFFc&amp;</span>
  </a>
  <span> ]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s co-operate!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sensation of deep confusion across his consciousness, Amajiki feels Mirio’s probing attention poke and prod at him until the dark slimy “parasite” is sufficiently motivated to rise up from under his host’s skin.  The frightened symbiote peers around at the quiet forested path he and Mirio are now alone on together, and he has to admit that it’s nice.  It seems like a place that would be peaceful, and in his relaxed state he opens up a little bit to his host.  Ideas and emotions go from the blonde man to his skittish companion and the thoughts they inspire are so foreign and curious to Amajiki that the slime doesn’t resist as his body settles over first one arm, then the other, then across the chest, and down the legs, resting comfortably without and within his host in an attempt at partnership.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amajiki and Mirio both feel something deep within themselves as they practice movements, driven by Mirio’s experience and augmented by what The Symbiote does to human muscle.  They feel… strong.  As Mirio and Amajiki leap 25 feet from one treetop to another there is laughter ringing in their ears and neither is sure anymore about who’s the one laughing.  And as an awkward landing sends them tumbling down a sheer cliff at enough speed and with enough impacts on the way down to leave either one of them [individually] brutalized, they huddle together and go from two individuals trying to work in tandem to being one partnership entity shrugging such pains and injuries off almost entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The new figure, broad and tall with an exaggerated but still heroic and humanoid silhouette chuckles to himself as he brushes the dust off and whistles as he looks up at the swathe of destruction his descent has left.  He flexes his fist and grins with a toothy maw and brilliant eyes.  He rather likes this feeling, the feeling of Power!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“We are no longer alone.  No longer afraid.  Never again will we allow such thoughts to halt us, to be held back by such fear and sorrow!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio, with a wide smile still on his face, puts his hand to his jaw again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna need a cool name to go by.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean… do we, actually?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio “hmms” before replying, starting to leap his way back up the cliff to where he parked his bike.  It feels good even as he wipes the sweat from his brow at the exertion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s either we pick a name for ourselves and establish it at the get-go, or the criminals and media will saddle us with one, and their naming sense is poisonous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s not a bad name.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What isn’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Poison.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio stops his climbing and considers it before shaking his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah it’s not bad, but it doesn’t feel right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Parasite?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Power?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two continue their back and forth all through their ride back home, both feeling very hungry and stopping in at the butcher’s again for some more protein and it’s only when Mirio’s unlocking his apartment’s front door that the lightbulb in his head flashes brightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“VENOM!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Venom?  That’s almost the same thing as poison though?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds cooler.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door shuts behind the blonde, and his partner stretches out from his shoulder to look him in the eyes.  The serious expression on the young man’s face is enough to send his partner into a chuckle, and without much thought or effort, the two are one again.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“So be it!  We are Venom!”</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. What comes after a couple fights?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Izuku makes a rather important choice.  In so doing, he and Toga make up after their first disagreement.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s been a few days since what Izuku is now calling [in his thoughts at least] ‘The Endeavour Incident’.  His instincts had been correct as he’d come to expect with regards to The Number One least heroic “Hero” of the modern age, his “work” having torn through no less than two whole residential neighborhoods, injuring 27 civilians and destroying tens of millions of yen’s worth of memories and lives.  There was miraculously only one lethality, and it was the villain in question, who succumbed to his burns before arriving at the hospital not 4 feet from Izuku.  His quirk, from what Izuku could tell, was either a very short-ranged emitter type or a strange sort of transformation that allowed him to essentially plate himself with a bony outer carapace.  It could have been put to better use than petty crime, but Izuku had the feeling that its rather grisly appearance saw the wielder driven away from any positive avenues from early on in life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> It wasn’t the first time Izuku had been beside someone in their last moments, and as with every time before, Izuku was momentarily frozen as he watched the last of life’s light leave the man’s eyes, the shrill whine of the heart monitor going flat searing itself into his mind like so many others had before.  It was another face, another name that would haunt him for so long as he lived, and as with every past death, he pushed it to the side at the moment.  His trauma would ruin him without a doubt, but it would not keep him from doing his job, from helping in whatever little ways he could.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Something smells tasty!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even as deep as his affection for his partner runs, he couldn’t help but be a bit put off by her total lack of empathy for the terrible scene they’d both been witness to.  It had left the two of them in a bit of a spat, through which they’d avoided going out together again.  Their disagreement was to be short-lived, however, as Izuku never could hold very much of anything against the people he loved, and this evening was to be a sort of make-up romp for the both of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who’s on the menu tonight, Izuku?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can practically hear the way his beloved salivates at the thought of another meal, and he can’t deny that he’s missed the feeling of power that Carnage instills within him.  Even amidst their little bicker as they’ve been, Izuku’s kept his ear to the ground, listening for details that others usually miss, noticing patterns that go otherwise unnoticed, and he’s pretty sure he knows who tonight’s main dish will be.  There have been whispers of underhanded dealings, such is unfortunately common nowadays, but certain names keep coming up as medium-level players in the underworld, and an alias that grows more and more familiar with every day he spends interwoven with his beloved Toga.  It’ll be like the equivalent of make-up sex for them, he thinks with a half-chuckle as he makes his way into the darkest alleyways he can find.  Before that, however, there needs to be some proper foreplay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi, you lost or something motherfucker?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The voice is nasally and entitled.  Izuku turns to face the source and is only just a bit surprised when a fist smashes into his face, breaking his nose and sending him to the dirty alleyway floor with a smile.  It’s pretty safe to say, he thinks, that he’s found someone the world would be better off without.  As a heavy boot stomps down hard on his side with the sound of snapping ribs and he curls into a ball with half a whimper, half a giggle he allows the warmth and strength of Toga to seep toward the surface, keeping her in check but only just barely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he must be, boss.  No one who knows where they’re going walks onto our turf in the middle of the night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn straight!  Stand him up, let’s see what kind of pretty face I just ruined.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Izuku feels the two pairs of arms roughly manhandle him into a semi-kneeling position in front of the man who hit him and he looks over his features while the slow smear of red begins to dribble down his face, into his mouth, and past the collar of his shirt.  Pity, he rather liked this one, it says “Shirt” upside down on the front.  The thug in charge is clean, his clothes are crisp, His watch is gleaming, his hair is nigh on immaculate, and Izuku wonders whose important son he’s about to murder.  His smile hasn’t wavered and the thugs must take it for an insult because someone grabs a nice fistful of his hair and pulls back hard so he can’t flinch back when the next punch comes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re actually making him prettier with every hit, boss!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two thugs holding him in place and keeping him from falling over laugh cruelly as they brace him against the slow steady beating he’s receiving.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haah!  Izu~!  Let me feed!  You can’t tease me like this!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A deep, rumbling voice comes from the mouth of the alleyway and for a moment everyone stops.  Izuku’s smile slackens slightly and Toga whimpers in fear of being edged like she has been for even longer.  The thug in charge turns back around with a snarl but his shoulders seem to relax when he sees whoever is addressing them.  The voice, now familiar to Izuku after a moment’s thought, continues.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God damn it, kid, I thought I told you not to come out tonight?  Kamui’s supposed to be on patrol in this area, lucky you that he had an emergency a couple blocks down and I had a feeling you’d be this stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The thug responds and Izuku feels like this must be fate, for Carnage’s main course to come and present itself like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck Kamui Woods.  What am I paying you for if not to let me have my fun?  Just keep him busy or send him away or whatever, aren’t you his senpai?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Death Arms grumbles but doesn’t say anything else, instead, planting himself at the alley’s mouth and keeping watch for a hero that will actually put a stop to the crime he’s allowing to happen.  A cackle begins to rise out of Izuku as the red dribbling out of his nose seems to soak into his clothes even more freely than before.  He feels the strength of his rage and Toga’s fervor settle over him, and without much preamble, the alleyway becomes not the scene of an assault, but instead the scene of several murders in progress.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first to go is the heavier set of the two thugs holding him upright, and he’s sent into the alley wall with enough force to crack the stones.  A wet cough rises out of him along with all the air in his lungs, and the snap of several bones in his arm and in his chest is like music to Toga’s ears.  He collapses to the ground only barely conscious and stunned into shock with pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Next comes the other, and he’s dealt with through means of a sharpened blade of red material.  His hand sails away in an arc that paints the alleyway in such vibrant red and leaves it so much finer smelling than before.  There isn’t enough time for him to cry out in pain before Carnage manages to prove that a fist can indeed fit in his mouth.  Bodily hefting the disarmed thug, Carnage locks his sight onto the third and final thug, having dispatched the prior two so fast that he still can’t seem to process just how far off script everything has gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The weight of a thrown body is enough to send him to the floor, and before he can get another breath in Carnage is upon him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <b>“Tell us that we don’t know who we’re dealing with!  Tell us just how very fucked we are for having our fun with you!  And then know deep in that blackened heart of yours that no matter what retribution we will face, you will die Horribly before it even has the chance to fail against us!”</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The force of a semi-truck smashes into Carnage’s side and sends them off the pinned bodies with a grunt of effort on the “hero”’s part.  Such a blow would have killed anything not built expressly for surviving such a blow, and it only reaffirms that Death Arms is no hero.  He’s just a bigger, stronger thug with a line of shitty unpopular merchandise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “You’re that red slime monster from the bank heist!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>“One and the same!  And you are a failure!  A pathetic excuse for celebrity.  You have never been a hero, not since your debut, not since you stood to one side and grumbled as a child drowned before your eyes!  And certainly not since you humiliated and berated another child for being a better hero than you ever have been!”</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> With an animal shriek, the mass of red surges forward and seems to explode out to swallow the false hero whole.  The failure of a hero punches out with a thoughtless bellow, too dull to try anything else and incensed at having his failures thrown in his face.  His last sound is as eloquent as he ever was, and moments later he is as dead as his career has come to be.  The figure of Carnage spasms and shifts as it consolidates the new mass, all the delicious genetic potential.  The two consciousnesses deep within achieve a sort of release that would leave them both stunned and gasping if they didn’t have each other to cling to, such that when the motions settle and Carnage exhales a deeply satisfied sigh they nearly forget the last of the three thugs in their eagerness to get home and cuddle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-You ate him?  What the fuck are y-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A spear spike of their body punches straight through the thug’s head, careless for words gone unspoken, content to feed without the dramatics of before.  In the afterglow of what they’ve done, to get riled up again with no satisfying conclusion would no doubt sour the experience for them to look back on.  And as Izuku and Toga again become two separate entities both with the same body they both know that they will indeed spend a lot of time looking back on this particular meal they’ve shared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carnage spreads themself out, collecting every drop of blood, every hunk of gore, every last trace of what’s happened in the dark alleyway before escaping away.  Nobody will report the sounds of a short sharp struggle, the few confused screams that managed to make it out to the road, and people will assume that the cracked wall, the caved-in trash cans, and the scattered filth are the result of rowdy hooligans just being themselves.  Kamui Woods will radio in to check on his senior partner and receive no response, and he’ll grumble to himself about how his partner continues to spit in the face of regulation by shutting his comms off.  It won't be until the end of their patrol shift in six and a half hours that anyone will begin to suspect anything has happened, and by the time an investigation is started, Izuku and Toga will be asleep in their bed, spooning each other in a way only they can.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Toga will whisper loving reassurances into Izuku’s ears as he shudders and sobs under the weight of the crime he’s willingly committed, conflicted by the sense of intoxicating power Carnage has afforded him and the ceaseless ardor of Toga against the certainty that what he’s just done cannot be considered anything but villainous. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yowza, it's been a while, hasn't it.  Those of you who are still around, you the real MVP.  I'm not dead believe it or not.  Thank my brother for getting me motivated enough to finish this up today.  This story is not done yet, believe me, there are at least another 20 chapters planned out and maybe some extra stuff after that.  That said, who can claim to understand how motivation and inspiration work, certainly not me.  next time, Carnage and Venom meet for the first time, so that should be fun.  Stay safe everyone, get your vaccinations if you can, don't be going out and partying or anything, etc.  Just, donacdumb.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm an idiot, and I really like this idea, somebody yell at me so I can focus on one story for goodness' sake.<br/>Or don't, it's chill.</p><p>Yell at me in the comments about what The Symbiotes can do and where I can take this story.  Me and Tyrant have a few ideas about character interactions, but as far as plot goes, this one's pretty open.</p><p>Oh yeah, blame Tyrant at least half for this one, he's an enabler and I love him.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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